A Devil's Sorrow
By Duke the Dark
(this is my first story, I hope you guys will love it, I try to stay loyal to the Forgotten Realm's "feel", and I am doing my best to make this as intriguing as possible, with a mix of battles, humor, and the morals and lessons of life)
"Don't trust a dark road, but be more careful of strangers."
Prologue
He walked with slow, yet sure and purposed steps towards the small town of Secomber, the northernmost settlement in the Western Heartlands. The figure walked on the middle of the road, as if the whole area itself was his, despite the fact that this is the first time he ever traveled in these parts of Faerun. In the darkness of night, he feels comfortable even if the next man-made light is still a few hundred of meters away, in Secomber itself, even if the road is flanked by woods.
He stopped on his tracks, unmoving, as if in great thought. With his long cloak reaching the floor, hoods on, and his sleek figure, he looks like a lady lost in the woods. Suddenly, four shapes erupted in the woods two on the left, two on the right.
Bandits, he thought. How typical.
The four bandits now circled him, all seven feet away, not wanting to take their chances, yet quite comfortable with their obvious odds. The sound of metal rang, as the three of them drew their short swords. The fourth one remained unarmed.
The cloak figure smiled, "Don't you think those weapons are too small for you. Look at yourselves, you are orcs."
"But how you---?", the first orc asked, surprised that the victim knew even in a dark night.
"Shut up! Obviously he is an elf who can see at night, or with the aide of magic! Be careful dealing with him. You! We will leave you in piece if you hand us your gold pouch!", the fourth one, smaller than the other three shouted out loud.
"Hmmm. and can I trust the word of a bottom feeder bandit? But very well, I will play along", the cloaked figure then took a pouch from his belt and threw it to the floor in front of the first orc.
The orc picked it up, opened the pouch.
"Well, what is it?" the obvious bandit leader asked.
"This no gold! This trash!" replied the orc.
The leader took a grim look at the figure, "You have the audacity to make a."
Before the leader can finish his statement, a bright flash erupted in their victim's hands, as three glowing spheres hit the first orc in his hairy chest. The orc holding his burned chest fell to the ground with a groan.
The other two charged in. "Kill him!", ordered the leader. The first orc to reach their victim slashed hard from the right, aiming at the throat. But the figure easily side stepped away, then managed to dodge his body back to the right as the second orc from behind tried to stabbed him at the back of his right chest.
"FOOL! Hit the left of his chest! That is where the heart is!", the leader managed to shout at the second orc, after recovering from the initial shock of spell display, not the death of one of his men.
Their victim suddenly rolled into the air, and landing twelve feet behind the orcs. The orcs, surprised, looked back and charged with their full speed. All they heard was a few muttered words of a language they don't comprehend, and without even reaching their target, both of them got burned in their tracks as a jet of circular flame erupted from the figure's hands going straight to the leader. The leader, both shocked and amused by an obvious display of spell power, still managed to dodge himself from his obvious fiery death.
"Ah, a mage of some sort," the leader said while getting up from his knees. "I have dealt with your kind before, and I am obviously prepared for your kind now!", saying this, he drew a keen looking short sword, and with a simple word, "magic bane", the sword glowed a dark red. "Ha ha ha! You might have dealt with the orcs easily elf wizard, but I am not an orc, nor am I as unskilled as them!". He charged in, managing to fill the gap of nineteen feet in a matter of a few seconds. He strike for his victim's skull, expecting to hear the usual crack, but instead, was very surprised to hear a clang of steel against steel.
"What is this?!", as he asked, he managed to see what happened. The cloaked figure managed to block his sword strike with a dagger. "You think your puny blade can stop mine elf?!", with that, he did a full turn and slashed towards his opponent's right shoulder. Another block, but this time, by a long sword, held by the figure's right hand. The bandit leader rolled back, shocked. "Bu. but you're a wizard.", he stammered. The figure pulled down his cloak, and revealed his dusky black delicate skin, silver hair, and eyes filled with great, yet cold hatred. "A. a. drow!", the bandit leader fell back to his back, and starting crawling backwards.
"I am not a drow human. I am half-drow. Cursed with the reputation of the drow, and the weakness of humans, a weakness you are obviously having, my friend. A weakness that will lead you to your death.", the half-drow took a step forward.
"A weakness of humans you say.", the proud leader still managed to say, "then you shall discover first hand!". With that he leaped forward, sword in a piercing position towards the half-drow's heart. He only felt air, but how could I possibly missed such an obvious target? No one can be that quick, I could have atleast hit his shoulder or arms... He then felt a knee to his stomach as he fell down. Winded, he still slashed up to wear he knows his opponent is. Missed again. He then saw his opponent at his back, a few feet away, just standing. He got up and charged, this time, using his full strength to do a full leap-charge. He smiled with the satisfaction of hitting flesh. a flesh that leads to the heart. It can't be! He should be down by now, why is he still up?! He then felt his body turning numb, all except his head is failing him. He fell to the ground, the sword, still in tact in his opponent's chest as he last remembered.
"What do you know of a vampire in Secomber?", he can hear his adversary standing before him.
"I. I. know nothing."
"Then you have wasted both my time and efforts. well, not much in effort to be honest.", the half-drow replied, "and oh, you are wrong once again, you told your orc friend that the heart is on the left side, partly you are right, but to me. I have no heart left. no heart.", he said the last phrase with almost a grieving pain. But with that, the bandit leader felt his head being pulled up using his hair, and saw a red glowing short sword in front of him, slitting his throat.
******
A cloaked figure entered the small town of Secomber at the early lights of dawn. Walking with slow, yet sure and purposed steps.
(this is my first story, I hope you guys will love it, I try to stay loyal to the Forgotten Realm's "feel", and I am doing my best to make this as intriguing as possible, with a mix of battles, humor, and the morals and lessons of life)
"Don't trust a dark road, but be more careful of strangers."
Prologue
He walked with slow, yet sure and purposed steps towards the small town of Secomber, the northernmost settlement in the Western Heartlands. The figure walked on the middle of the road, as if the whole area itself was his, despite the fact that this is the first time he ever traveled in these parts of Faerun. In the darkness of night, he feels comfortable even if the next man-made light is still a few hundred of meters away, in Secomber itself, even if the road is flanked by woods.
He stopped on his tracks, unmoving, as if in great thought. With his long cloak reaching the floor, hoods on, and his sleek figure, he looks like a lady lost in the woods. Suddenly, four shapes erupted in the woods two on the left, two on the right.
Bandits, he thought. How typical.
The four bandits now circled him, all seven feet away, not wanting to take their chances, yet quite comfortable with their obvious odds. The sound of metal rang, as the three of them drew their short swords. The fourth one remained unarmed.
The cloak figure smiled, "Don't you think those weapons are too small for you. Look at yourselves, you are orcs."
"But how you---?", the first orc asked, surprised that the victim knew even in a dark night.
"Shut up! Obviously he is an elf who can see at night, or with the aide of magic! Be careful dealing with him. You! We will leave you in piece if you hand us your gold pouch!", the fourth one, smaller than the other three shouted out loud.
"Hmmm. and can I trust the word of a bottom feeder bandit? But very well, I will play along", the cloaked figure then took a pouch from his belt and threw it to the floor in front of the first orc.
The orc picked it up, opened the pouch.
"Well, what is it?" the obvious bandit leader asked.
"This no gold! This trash!" replied the orc.
The leader took a grim look at the figure, "You have the audacity to make a."
Before the leader can finish his statement, a bright flash erupted in their victim's hands, as three glowing spheres hit the first orc in his hairy chest. The orc holding his burned chest fell to the ground with a groan.
The other two charged in. "Kill him!", ordered the leader. The first orc to reach their victim slashed hard from the right, aiming at the throat. But the figure easily side stepped away, then managed to dodge his body back to the right as the second orc from behind tried to stabbed him at the back of his right chest.
"FOOL! Hit the left of his chest! That is where the heart is!", the leader managed to shout at the second orc, after recovering from the initial shock of spell display, not the death of one of his men.
Their victim suddenly rolled into the air, and landing twelve feet behind the orcs. The orcs, surprised, looked back and charged with their full speed. All they heard was a few muttered words of a language they don't comprehend, and without even reaching their target, both of them got burned in their tracks as a jet of circular flame erupted from the figure's hands going straight to the leader. The leader, both shocked and amused by an obvious display of spell power, still managed to dodge himself from his obvious fiery death.
"Ah, a mage of some sort," the leader said while getting up from his knees. "I have dealt with your kind before, and I am obviously prepared for your kind now!", saying this, he drew a keen looking short sword, and with a simple word, "magic bane", the sword glowed a dark red. "Ha ha ha! You might have dealt with the orcs easily elf wizard, but I am not an orc, nor am I as unskilled as them!". He charged in, managing to fill the gap of nineteen feet in a matter of a few seconds. He strike for his victim's skull, expecting to hear the usual crack, but instead, was very surprised to hear a clang of steel against steel.
"What is this?!", as he asked, he managed to see what happened. The cloaked figure managed to block his sword strike with a dagger. "You think your puny blade can stop mine elf?!", with that, he did a full turn and slashed towards his opponent's right shoulder. Another block, but this time, by a long sword, held by the figure's right hand. The bandit leader rolled back, shocked. "Bu. but you're a wizard.", he stammered. The figure pulled down his cloak, and revealed his dusky black delicate skin, silver hair, and eyes filled with great, yet cold hatred. "A. a. drow!", the bandit leader fell back to his back, and starting crawling backwards.
"I am not a drow human. I am half-drow. Cursed with the reputation of the drow, and the weakness of humans, a weakness you are obviously having, my friend. A weakness that will lead you to your death.", the half-drow took a step forward.
"A weakness of humans you say.", the proud leader still managed to say, "then you shall discover first hand!". With that he leaped forward, sword in a piercing position towards the half-drow's heart. He only felt air, but how could I possibly missed such an obvious target? No one can be that quick, I could have atleast hit his shoulder or arms... He then felt a knee to his stomach as he fell down. Winded, he still slashed up to wear he knows his opponent is. Missed again. He then saw his opponent at his back, a few feet away, just standing. He got up and charged, this time, using his full strength to do a full leap-charge. He smiled with the satisfaction of hitting flesh. a flesh that leads to the heart. It can't be! He should be down by now, why is he still up?! He then felt his body turning numb, all except his head is failing him. He fell to the ground, the sword, still in tact in his opponent's chest as he last remembered.
"What do you know of a vampire in Secomber?", he can hear his adversary standing before him.
"I. I. know nothing."
"Then you have wasted both my time and efforts. well, not much in effort to be honest.", the half-drow replied, "and oh, you are wrong once again, you told your orc friend that the heart is on the left side, partly you are right, but to me. I have no heart left. no heart.", he said the last phrase with almost a grieving pain. But with that, the bandit leader felt his head being pulled up using his hair, and saw a red glowing short sword in front of him, slitting his throat.
******
A cloaked figure entered the small town of Secomber at the early lights of dawn. Walking with slow, yet sure and purposed steps.